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Max had always been aware that his parents’ relationship was far from perfect. The tension between them was constant, simmering just beneath the surface. They often fought, their arguments escalating quickly until his father’s temper got the best of him. Max had witnessed it all, the shouting, the slamming doors, and the bruises his mother tried to hide. One incident was seared into his memory more than the rest—the day his father threatened to run his mother over with his car. Max, frozen with fear, had watched the scene unfold, unable to forget the cold fury in his father’s eyes or the way his mother stood her ground, trembling but unyielding.
Despite this, Max found himself tied to his father, mainly because of karting. His mother, already overwhelmed with caring for his baby sister, simply didn’t have the time to support his racing career. The decision to stick with his father seemed logical, if not inevitable. After all, his father had the experience, the drive, and the resources to help Max pursue his dreams on the track. He told himself that staying with his father was the best option, even if it meant enduring the man's harsh temperament and sky-high expectations.
It wasn’t entirely surprising when, one day, his father came home with a timid, blond-haired, blue-eyed boy like himself. The boy, Logan, stood silently as their father made the announcement. “Max, this is your half-brother from America,” his father said bluntly, without a trace of emotion. Max sat there, listening to his father explain that Logan would be living with them and would also be pursuing karting, just like Max. “It runs in the Verstappen blood,” his father added as if that explained everything.
As his father continued talking, mostly about logistics and karting schedules, Max found his gaze drifting toward Logan. The boy was only a few years younger than him, which meant that at some point after his sister Victoria was born but before his parents’ divorce, his father had been unfaithful. The realization stirred a mix of anger and resentment in Max. He felt an almost instinctive urge to distance himself from Logan, to treat him like an outsider. But a more rational part of his mind reminded him that none of this was Logan’s fault. It wasn’t his fault that their father had been unfaithful, or that Max’s life was already a mess of unresolved emotions and strained family ties.
So, despite his initial reluctance, Max made an effort with Logan. He showed him around the house, explained the routines, and tried to help him adjust to life in the Netherlands. At the same time, Max remained focused on his racing career. He knew how high his father’s standards were, and how quick he was to dole out punishments when things didn’t go according to plan. Racing wasn’t just a hobby in their family—it was a way of life, and failure was not an option. If Max didn’t perform to his father’s satisfaction, he knew there would be consequences.
Logan, however, seemed to struggle with everything. He had trouble learning the language and didn’t share the same relentless drive that Max had developed over the years. While their father pushed him hard, Logan seemed hesitant, almost afraid to push back or even fully engage. He was timid, the very thing their father hated most in a son. Max could sense his father’s growing impatience with Logan, who wasn’t adapting quickly enough and wasn’t living up to the family’s reputation.
It didn’t help that their father insisted on taking both boys to the racetrack almost every day. “You can eat and sleep when you win,” he would say, his voice hard and unyielding. He demanded constant practice and constant improvement. For Max, it was gruelling but familiar. He had grown up with this level of intensity, and while it was exhausting, he had learned to thrive under the pressure. Logan, on the other hand, seemed to crumble. He was clearly overwhelmed, struggling to keep up with their father’s impossible expectations.
Max found himself caught between trying to perfect his own racing skills and keeping an eye on Logan, who was clearly out of his depth. Their father’s relentless approach was a recipe for disaster for someone like Logan, who was already shy and unsure of himself. But in their father’s eyes, there was no room for softness. “If Max can handle it, so can you,” he would snap at Logan whenever the boy faltered. Max wanted to believe that Logan would eventually get used to the pressure, just as he had. But deep down, he wondered if Logan was cut out for the life their father demanded.
+++
The first time Max hears Logan crying, his instinct is to ignore it. After all, he’s grown up accustomed to the sounds of his father’s anger—yelling, objects being hurled across the room, and the echoing tension that never seemed to dissipate. But as the crying continues, becoming louder and more desperate, Max can’t push it aside any longer. Something in the tone of Logan's sobs—so raw and heart-wrenching—compels him to get up and investigate.
He finds Logan in his room, curled up on his bed with a pillow clutched tightly to his chest. The sight stops Max in his tracks. Logan’s face is streaked with tears, his eyes wide and filled with a mixture of fear and shame. As soon as he notices Max standing in the doorway, Logan begins to apologize, his words stumbling over each other as he tries to wipe away the tears that just won’t stop falling.
Max’s heart clenches at the sight, a protective instinct kicking in as he moves closer, trying to calm Logan down. But the younger boy is nearly incoherent, his voice trembling as he attempts to explain what happened. It takes a moment for Max to piece together the fragmented words, but when he does, his blood runs cold. Their father, Jos, had lost his temper again—and this time, it had turned physical.
Max isn’t a stranger to his father’s heavy hand. He can recall the times Jos had struck him, moments that had left both physical and emotional scars. But Max had always fought back, his defiance flaring in the heat of the moment, leading to shouting matches that inevitably ended in blows. He had learned to brace himself, to stand his ground. Logan, however, was different. He was softer, more passive—he absorbed their father’s rage without protest, shrinking under the weight of his harsh words and violent outbursts. And now, it had escalated to something far worse.
Max feels his heartbreak for Logan, understanding all too well the pain and fear that comes from being on the receiving end of their father’s wrath. He crouches down beside the bed, his voice gentle as he asks, “Let me see your face, please? I need to see how bad it is…”
Logan hesitates but finally lifts his head, revealing a face already beginning to bruise. There’s a small cut on his lip, the skin split and tender. Max’s stomach twists at the sight, anger simmering just beneath the surface, but he forces it down. Now isn’t the time for anger. Logan needs him.
“Stay here, I’ll get the first aid kit, okay?” Max says, trying to keep his voice steady. “We need to clean that cut. I’ll bring some ice for the swelling too, and maybe some painkillers. Just wait here. Don’t go anywhere.”
Max moves quickly, returning with the first aid supplies. He cleans Logan’s face with a careful hand, dabbing at the cut with antiseptic before handing over the ice pack. “Here, hold this on your face. It’ll help with the swelling, I promise. Do you want me to get you some painkillers? Or some water?”
Logan shakes his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “No, it’s okay. Thank you, though. You don’t have to help me, Max. I’m fine. You should go back to sleep.”
Max doesn’t move from his spot on the bed. “You’re my little brother. It’s my job to take care of you. If anyone messes with you, I’ll fight them.”
Logan sniffles, his eyes downcast as he mutters, “You can’t fight Dad… Besides, I deserved it. I crashed the kart because I couldn’t control it in the rain—not like you can.”
Max frowns, his heart aching at the self-blame in Logan’s voice. “What happened isn’t your fault. It was the weather, not you. You shouldn’t blame yourself. I know Dad is hard on us, but we’ll get better. Trust me.” He puts an arm around Logan’s shoulders, pulling him close in a rare gesture of affection. “Don’t let him get to you. Just stay strong, okay? I’m here for you.”
They sit in silence for a moment, Max holding Logan as the younger boy tries to regain some semblance of composure. After a while, Max pulls back, his eyes soft with concern. “I’m gonna get you some painkillers just in case, okay? I’ll be right back.”
When he returns, Logan accepts the painkillers and water with a quiet “thank you.” Max watches him, still worried, but knowing there’s only so much he can do. He offers to stay, to keep Logan company, but Logan shakes his head again. “I’m fine, really. You can go to bed.”
Max hesitates, his protective instincts warring with the knowledge that Logan needs space. He knows they aren’t close—not yet—but he hopes that one day, they will be. “If you need me, you know where my room is, okay? Promise me you’ll come get me if anything happens?”
Logan nods, a small, tentative smile forming on his bruised face. “Promise.”
Max returns the smile, albeit faintly. “Good. Now try to get some rest.”
With one last look back, Max leaves the room, closing the door softly behind him. “Goodnight, Logan,” he murmurs, his heart heavy as he heads back to his bed, hoping that tomorrow will be better for both of them.
+++
As time goes on, Logan gradually begins to settle into his new life. The shy, timid boy who once flinched at every harsh word slowly starts to open up. He’s still quiet by nature, but now he’s beginning to speak more, to share glimpses of his thoughts and feelings. Max notices the change and welcomes it. The bond between them strengthens, marked by moments of roughhousing and shared jokes, although Logan rarely fights back with much force. Despite that, there’s a warmth growing between them, a sense of brotherhood that Max never expected to feel so deeply.
But the more Logan finds comfort in his new surroundings, the more their father seems to resent him. It’s as if Jos can’t stand to see Logan happy, and can’t tolerate the idea of the boy finding his place in the world. Their father begins to belittle Logan more frequently, pushing him beyond what’s reasonable for someone so young and inexperienced. Max can see that it’s too much, that his father’s relentless pressure is doing more harm than good, but there’s little he can do to stop it.
One day, Jos takes both boys to the track, as he often does. But instead of letting Logan race, he makes him sit to the side, watching as Max speeds around the circuit. “Maybe watching your older brother race will give you some inspiration,” Jos says, his voice laced with sarcasm.
But it doesn’t. Max can see the light drain from Logan’s eyes as he sits there, shoulders slumped, staring blankly ahead as Max walks away from him. There’s no spark of determination, no glimmer of motivation—just a hollow, defeated look that breaks Max’s heart.
“Dad, he should be out there racing. Not sitting in the garage,” Max argues, unable to hold his tongue.
Jos turns to him with a sharp glare. “I’m the one in charge. Don’t tell me how to train my kids. If he wants to amount to anything in the racing world, he needs to learn to push through and overcome.”
Max bites back his retort, knowing from experience that arguing with his father only leads to more trouble. He swallows his frustration and returns to his practice, but the image of Logan, sitting alone and dejected, lingers in his mind.
When they finally return home, Jos is still in a foul mood. His anger seems to have no end, and he directs it all at Logan, snapping at him for every minor mistake, blaming him for things that aren’t even his fault. Max watches helplessly, his heart aching for his brother. He can’t understand why their father is so hard on Logan. Sure, the kid’s struggling, but he’s trying. And Jos, instead of encouraging him, only seems to tear him down further.
Later that evening, Max finds Logan curled up in his bed, face buried in a pillow. He can hear the faint sounds of crying, muffled but unmistakable. Gently, Max knocks on the door. “Logan? Can I come in?”
There’s a pause, then a quiet, “Yeah, sure. Come in.”
Max steps inside and sees Logan sitting up, his eyes red and puffy from crying. Logan quickly tries to stop the tears, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I’m fine,” he says, but his voice wavers. “Just having a bad day, I guess. I’m not very good at racing, and I know Dad’s mad at me. I’m not trying to be so bad, I swear. But I will get better, I promise.”
Max shakes his head, moving closer. “It’s not your fault, okay? Don’t listen to Dad. You’re doing great. You just need to believe in yourself a little more.”
Logan offers a small, hesitant smile. “You really think so? Do you think I can be a racer like you one day? I’ve heard people talk about you. They say you’re amazing, that you’re gonna go far.”
Max shrugs, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the praise. “Yeah, well, I think you can be an amazing racer too. All you need to do is keep trying. Dad’s tough, but he’s just pushing you to be better. You’ll get there, I know you will.”
Logan looks up at him, hope flickering in his eyes. “You really think so? Even if I struggle?”
“Even if you struggle,” Max says firmly. But Logan’s words tug at something inside him, and he realizes the truth he’s been avoiding. Logan isn’t the only one who struggles—Max has had his share of battles too. He’s been through the same gruelling drills, the same harsh criticisms, the same fear of not being good enough. But since Logan came along, all that rage and frustration has been redirected. Jos now focuses his relentless drive on Logan, leaving Max in the clear. The realization makes Max’s stomach churn with guilt.
“I do struggle, Logan,” Max admits after a moment, his voice softer. “Trust me, I’ve struggled a lot. I know how it feels. But we have to keep trying, okay? It’s the only way to get better.”
Logan nods his expression a mixture of determination and vulnerability. “Okay, I’ll keep trying.”
“Good. That’s all I ask. You have the skills, Logan. You just need to build up your confidence.”
Max stands and heads for the door. “Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”
As he reaches the door, Logan’s voice stops him. “Wait, Max. Can you stay with me? Just for a little while?”
Max hesitates, then smiles. “Yeah, sure. I’ll stay until you fall asleep. How’s that?”
Logan scoots over, making room for Max on the bed. Max climbs in beside him, and they lie there in silence, the weight of the day’s events slowly fading away. Logan’s breathing eventually evens out, and Max knows he’s fallen asleep. He can’t help but smile as he watches his brother’s peaceful face, relieved that he was able to bring him some comfort, even if just a little.
As Max quietly slips out of the bed, careful not to wake Logan, he feels a surge of protectiveness. He’s determined to be there for his brother, to help him through the tough times, just as he wishes someone had done for him. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll both come out stronger in the end.
+++
As Logan begins to settle into karting, something unexpected happens—he makes a friend. The boy’s name is Oscar, a cheerful, talented racer who seems to bring out a side of Logan that Max has never seen before. They’re always together at the track, laughing and joking around like they’ve known each other for years. It’s clear that Oscar has become a source of comfort and confidence for Logan, and it shows in his racing. Logan’s performance improves noticeably, his lap times dropping, and his once timid demeanour on the track starts to fade. Jos even seems pleased with Logan’s progress, although he still pushes him hard.
But beneath Max’s outward support for his brother, there’s a growing knot of jealousy. Max was never allowed to make friends, let alone spend time with them. His father had always been adamant that socializing was a waste of time, a distraction from racing. Watching Logan and Oscar bond only amplifies the loneliness Max has carried with him for so long. Yet, he knows how important this friendship is for Logan, so he stays silent, suppressing his own feelings.
One day, after a particularly gruelling practice session, Max finds his father in the garage, hunched over Logan’s kart, fine-tuning the engine. Max grabs a rag and joins him, hoping to talk.
“Logan’s doing better,” Max says, trying to sound casual.
Jos grunts in response, his focus never leaving the kart. “As long as he’s not distracted by that boy, he can do whatever he wants. It doesn’t matter to me. I just want results. Anything else is a waste of time.”
Max hesitates but then presses on, “Oscar seems nice. He’s a good racer. Even Mark Webber has praised the kid.”
Jos scoffs, finally looking up. “Webber? What does he know? The only thing that matters is results, not what Webber thinks.”
Max takes a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “But if their friendship is helping Logan improve, shouldn’t we encourage it? He’s more confident now, and his results are better. Isn’t that what we want?”
“I’m not going to have my son wasting his time socializing instead of racing,” Jos snaps. “He’s got work to do. If he can’t focus, then he doesn’t deserve to be here.”
“That’s not fair, Dad,” Max says, frustration bubbling up. “Logan needs someone he can talk to. Oscar’s been helping him. Why can’t you see that? It’s not just about racing—it’s about everything.”
Jos’s expression hardens, his voice turning icy. “If you’re going to start acting like your brother, then maybe I was wrong about you too. Maybe you’re both a lost cause.”
Max grits his teeth, anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Just because I’m trying to help him doesn’t mean I’m a lost cause. We’re not your puppets, Dad. We’re people, and we deserve to be treated like it.”
Jos dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “I’ll treat you both as I see fit. Now leave me alone. I have work to do.”
Max feels a surge of frustration but knows there’s no point in arguing further. He tosses the rag onto the workbench and storms out of the garage, his mind racing with a mix of anger and helplessness.
In the days that follow, Max notices a shift in Jos’s behaviour. His father becomes even harder on Logan, pushing him beyond his limits. No matter how well Logan performs, it’s never good enough. And then, the punishments start. Jos’s discipline, always harsh, turns physical again. He begins hitting Logan more frequently, using his belt or his fists, claiming it’s for his good. But Logan doesn’t take it well. The newfound confidence he’d gained starts to crumble, and he becomes withdrawn again, avoiding the track, and retreating to his room whenever he can.
Max watches in despair, knowing he’s powerless to stop it. He’s lived through the same brutality, but it’s different seeing it happen to Logan, knowing that his father’s wrath has shifted away from him and onto his younger brother. He wants to help, but he doesn’t know how. Jos won’t change, and trying to intervene only seems to make things worse.
One evening, Max can’t take it anymore. He knocks on Logan’s door, hoping to reach him.
“Logan? Can we talk for a minute? Please?”
There’s a long pause before Logan finally mumbles, “Go away. I don’t want to talk.”
Max’s heart sinks, but he refuses to give up. “Come on, please? I’m worried about you. I know you’re having a rough time, and I just want to help.”
After another stretch of silence, the door creaks open. Logan stands there, looking exhausted and dishevelled, his hair a mess and his clothes wrinkled. His eyes are red-rimmed, and it’s clear he’s been crying.
“What do you want?” Logan asks, his voice flat and weary.
Max steps inside, trying to gauge his brother’s mood. “Just to talk. Can we sit down? Maybe go out for a walk or something?”
“I’m grounded,” Logan mutters. “I can’t leave my room.”
“Oh. Well, can I come in? Or we can just talk here. Whatever you want,” Max offers, trying to keep his tone light.
Logan sighs but finally steps aside, letting Max into the room. He collapses onto his bed, and Max takes a seat at the desk.
“I just wanted to check on you,” Max begins cautiously. “Dad’s not easy to deal with, I know. But we’re going to be okay. You’re doing a great job. Just keep it up, okay?”
Logan scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Easy for you to say. You’re the golden child. He doesn’t yell at you anymore, he just ignores you. It’s not the same.”
Max feels a pang of guilt but tries to stay calm. “Hey, that’s not true. I struggle too. Dad’s hard on me, just like he’s hard on you. He just wants us to be the best racers we can be.”
Logan’s eyes flash with anger. “Why do you keep defending him? He’s an asshole, and you know it. I don’t know how you can live with yourself after everything he’s done to us.”
Max’s heart breaks at the bitterness in Logan’s voice. “It’s not like that, Logan. We’re a family. Families are complicated. I’m not trying to defend him—I’m just trying to help.”
“Then you can’t,” Logan snaps. “Nothing you say is going to make me feel better. You don’t understand. Now please, leave me alone before you get me in trouble.”
Max knows he’s lost this battle. He stands up, trying to keep his voice steady. “Okay, fine. I’ll leave you alone. But if you need anything, I’m here for you, okay? Always.”
Logan doesn’t respond, just turns away and buries his face in his pillow. Max watches him for a moment, feeling more defeated than ever, before quietly leaving the room.
As he shuts the door behind him, an idea begins to form in his mind. Max knows he can’t change their father, but maybe, just maybe, he can do something to help Logan in a way that matters. If Logan can’t find peace at home, Max is determined to find it for him elsewhere. He doesn’t know exactly what he’ll do yet, but he knows he has to try. For Logan’s sake.
+++
Max knew the second-place finish would enrage his father, but he also knew it was the only way to protect Logan, even if just for a little while. As he pulled into the garage after the race, he braced himself for the inevitable confrontation. Jos was waiting, his face flushed with anger, eyes burning with disappointment.
“What the hell was that, Max? You had the win in the bag. What happened?! Leclerc should not have won this race!” Jos’s voice was low, simmering with barely contained fury.
Max could see the tension in his father’s clenched fists and the way he was restraining himself from grabbing Max in front of everyone. He’d seen this rage many times before, and though it still frightened him, today he felt something different—a resolve to shield Logan from it.
“It was a tactical decision,” Max said, keeping his voice even. “Charles had the inside line, and I didn’t have a way around him. It’s not like I gave up the win for no reason. It’s racing. Things happen.”
Jos’s entire body trembled with anger. “You’re not making any sense. You had the pace! You could have pushed harder, fought harder! You didn’t even try!”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you. It’s my race, and I make the decisions. This was mine, and I’m not sorry.”
That was enough to snap Jos’s restraint. He grabbed Max’s arm, his grip so tight it felt like a vice. “We will discuss this later. Get your things and get in the car.”
Max didn’t argue. He followed his father to the car, feeling Logan’s anxious eyes on him as they walked past. The ride home was tense, the silence thick with unspoken threats. Max could feel the fury radiating off Jos in waves, but he kept his gaze forward, focusing on what mattered—Logan was safe, at least for now.
When they finally arrived home, Jos turned to Logan. “Go to your room,” he ordered, his voice cold and final. Logan didn’t hesitate, retreating quickly upstairs. Max watched him go, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come.
As soon as Logan was out of sight, Jos yanked Max into the living room. The older teen barely had time to brace himself before Jos’s fist connected with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Max doubled over in pain, but Jos wasn’t done. He grabbed Max by the hair, forcing him to stay upright.
“How dare you defy me like that!” Jos hissed, his voice laced with venom. “After all I’ve done for you, you dare to throw away a win! I’ve given you everything, and this is how you repay me?!”
Max’s response was choked out between gasps for air. “It was a tactical decision. Like I said before, it wasn’t personal.”
But Jos didn’t care. He threw Max to the ground and delivered a brutal kick to his ribs. The pain was blinding, and Max struggled to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he tried to stay conscious.
“I don’t care about your excuses. You’re a disgrace. I’m disappointed in you,” Jos spat, looking down at his son with pure contempt.
Max couldn’t muster a reply. He was too busy fighting to breathe, the world spinning around him.
“Get up and go to your room. You will not be joining us for dinner. You can stay there and think about what you’ve done,” Jos commanded, his voice cold and final.
Max nodded weakly, forcing himself to stand despite the pain that shot through his body with every movement. He stumbled toward the stairs, each step an agonizing reminder of the beating he’d just endured. But through it all, one thought kept him going—Logan wouldn’t have to face this tonight. For that, it was all worth it.
When Max finally reached his room, he collapsed onto the bed, his body throbbing with pain. Every breath was a struggle, every inch of him ached, but he didn’t regret his decision. Protecting Logan, even just for one night, made it all worthwhile. As he lay there, the world slowly fading into darkness, he held onto that small victory, knowing it was all he could do for now.
+++
Logan stood frozen in place, his heart pounding as he watched their father unleash his fury on Max. He had seen their father angry before, but never like this. The disqualification was a first, a line neither of them had ever crossed, and the consequences were brutal.
The sound of their father's fist connecting with Max’s face, the sickening crunch of bone, made Logan flinch. He wanted to intervene, to stop the violence, but fear rooted him to the spot. All he could do was watch, helpless, as Max took the beating that should never have happened.
Logan had noticed the pattern—how Max seemed to make mistakes that drew their father’s wrath away from him. It didn’t make sense. Max was the golden child, the one with all the talent, the one their father believed in. Why would he sabotage himself just to protect Logan?
Max lay on the garage floor, curled up and bloodied, while their father stood over him, panting with rage. Then, almost as if a switch had flipped, their father turned to Logan. For a moment, Logan braced himself, expecting the anger to be redirected at him. But the blow never came.
“Get him cleaned up and then go to your room. Both of you,” their father ordered, his voice cold and detached.
“Yes, sir,” Logan replied automatically, his voice trembling.
He rushed to Max’s side, helping his older brother to his feet. The silence between them was heavy, filled with unspoken words and shared pain. Logan guided Max into the house, up the stairs, and into the bathroom. He watched as Max washed the blood from his face, revealing a swollen cheek and a forming black eye.
“I’m sorry,” Logan said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Max glanced at him in the mirror, a small, weary smile on his face. “Don’t be. I made a choice, and I’m okay with it. He’ll get over it.”
“You shouldn’t have done that. It was a stupid decision,” Logan argued, frustration and confusion bubbling up inside him.
Max shrugged, applying cream to his bruises. “It wasn’t stupid. It was a decision, and I would make it again.”
Logan stared at his brother, trying to make sense of it all. “Why are you doing this? I’m not dumb, Max. I know what you’re doing—making mistakes to take Dad’s attention off me!”
Max paused, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now let’s get to our rooms before Dad finds another reason to be pissed.”
But as Max tried to brush past him, Logan acted on instinct. He reached out and hugged his brother from behind, pressing his face into Max’s back. “You don’t have to do this for me. I can take care of myself.”
Max froze for a moment before reaching up to place a hand over Logan’s. “I know you can, but I’m not doing it just for you. I’m doing it because I can’t stand to watch him hurt you anymore.”
Gently, Max pulled Logan’s arms away and turned to face him, his eyes soft but resolute. “Please, just focus on your racing. Don’t worry about me. Okay?”
Logan nodded, his throat tight with emotion. He wanted to argue, to say that it wasn’t fair, but the look in Max’s eyes stopped him. He took a step back and quietly went to his room, closing the door behind him.
Max waited until he heard the door click shut before he allowed himself to let out a shaky breath. He was terrified—terrified of their father, of what might happen next, of how long he could keep this up. But he knew he had to keep going. He had to stay strong, at least on the outside, for Logan’s sake.
As he finally made his way to his room, Max steeled himself for whatever would come next. He couldn’t afford to be scared, not when Logan needed him to be brave. So he pushed the fear down, locked it away, and prepared to face another day in a life that seemed to be spiralling out of control.
+++
When Max skipped F2 and jumped straight into F1, their father finally showed a glimmer of pride. It was the validation Max had worked relentlessly for, training harder than ever, enduring gruelling hours behind the wheel, and pushing himself to the brink. All that effort was finally paying off. Max had become the youngest driver in F1 history, the youngest race winner, and a rising star on the international stage. But even as the accolades poured in, he found it impossible to celebrate fully. Not when Logan was still struggling under the weight of their father’s relentless pressure.
Logan was improving, no doubt, but he was far from where their father wanted him to be. Max could see the toll it was taking on his younger brother—the constant criticism, the never-ending expectations, and the harsh punishments for every perceived failure. Max knew he had to do something. He had to get Logan out of there, away from their father's suffocating grip, before it was too late.
So Max began to plan in secret. Over the course of several months, he researched every possible option, scrutinizing different locations, schools, and racing programs that could give Logan a fresh start. He saved every penny he could, determined to make sure that when the time came, he would be ready to take his brother somewhere safe, somewhere where he could rediscover his passion for racing without the constant threat of their father's wrath hanging over him.
Then, at 18 years old, Max made his move. With his new F1 contract in hand, he relocated to Monaco, taking Logan with him. The decision was not without consequences. Their father exploded with fury, yelling, screaming, and threatening to cut them off financially. But Max didn’t care. He was prepared to pay for everything himself if it meant giving Logan a chance at a normal life, a life free from their father’s control. And as they settled into their new life in Monaco, Max quickly realized it was the best decision he had ever made.
In Monaco, Logan began to blossom. The constant pressure was gone, and in its place, a new sense of confidence started to emerge. With their father no longer breathing down his neck, Logan’s racing improved dramatically. He was still a work in progress, but the difference was undeniable. He began winning races, catching the attention of teams in F3, and even generating some buzz in F2. Max watched with pride as his brother finally began to live up to the potential he had always seen in him.
Max’s own career was skyrocketing as well. He was the talk of the F1 world, not just for his youth but for his raw talent and aggressive driving style. The media dubbed him “Mad Max,” a nickname that stuck as his reputation for fearless, sometimes reckless, racing grew. But while Max played into the image on the track, he hated the nickname. It reminded him too much of their father—too much of the man who had drilled into him that aggression was the only way to succeed.
One evening, after a particularly rough day of dealing with media obligations and sponsor demands, Max stormed into the living room and threw his phone onto the couch in frustration.
“Fuck!” he cursed, running his hands through his hair, his face a mixture of anger and exhaustion.
Logan, who had been quietly reading, looked up and moved to sit beside his brother. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice calm and steady.
“I have to go to a fucking media event. Some charity gala or something,” Max grumbled, crossing his arms defensively. “The team wants to ‘improve my image.’ What does it matter? I just want to race. I don’t give a shit what people think of me.”
Logan gave him a sympathetic smile, understanding his frustration. “I know, but it comes with the territory. We have to play the game if we want to keep doing this. Besides, you’ve got a lot of fans, Max. You could do some good for charity.”
Max sighed, his anger fading into a weary resignation. “I don’t know, it just feels like a waste of time.”
“Maybe,” Logan said, leaning in a little closer, “but it can’t hurt to try, right? You might even have fun. Meet some interesting people, hang out with other drivers, maybe even a few celebrities.”
“You know I don’t care about that stuff, Logan. Let them call me whatever they want. As long as I’m proving them wrong on the track, it doesn’t matter,” Max replied, his voice softer but still tinged with frustration.
Logan watched his older brother closely, sensing the underlying hurt. He knew how much Max hated being judged, how much he despised the “Mad Max” label, even if he wouldn’t admit it. It wasn’t just about the nickname—it was about everything it represented. The anger, the aggression, the constant need to prove himself, just like their father had drilled into him.
Logan shifted closer and rested his head on Max’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection between them. “You don’t have to go, you know. I can make an excuse for you. Tell them I’m sick and you have to take care of me.”
Max chuckled softly, the tension in his body easing a little. “No, it’s fine. I’ll go. Might as well get it over with. Besides, you’re probably right. It can’t hurt to try.”
They sat there for a moment, leaning against each other, finding comfort in the silence. The world outside might see Max as fierce and untouchable, but here, with Logan, he could let down his guard, if only for a little while.
“Maybe you’ll find someone cute there,” Logan teased, a small grin playing on his lips.
Max snorted, shaking his head with a smirk. “Yeah, right.”
They both laughed softly, the sound easing the weight of the day. As the silence returned, they found themselves lost in thought, each wondering what the night—and the future—might bring. But whatever happened, they knew they had each other. And in a world as unpredictable and challenging as theirs, that was enough.
+++
They never fought. Sure, they had their disagreements, moments of tension where words were exchanged with a bit more bite than intended, but an actual argument? That was uncharted territory for them. Yet here they were, standing in their living room, voices echoing off the walls of their apartment as they hurled words at each other.
It started over something stupid, something so inconsequential that neither of them would remember what sparked it by the time the shouting reached its peak. But now, neither could back down.
“You can’t just do whatever you want! You have to think about other people, Logan! Stop being so selfish!” Max shouted, his frustration boiling over, his voice rising to drown out the protests of his younger brother.
Logan’s face was flushed with anger, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re one to talk, Max! You’ve never thought about anyone but yourself! You can’t just ignore everyone and expect things to work out!”
Max’s eyes flared with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “I can’t believe you! After everything I’ve done for you, you have the nerve to accuse me of being selfish? Fuck you!”
“Yeah, fuck you too, Max! You’ve always been the golden boy, the one with all the talent. You don’t know what it’s like to be me!”
Max’s hands curled into fists, not out of anger but out of sheer frustration. “You’re so ungrateful! I’ve done nothing but help you since we left! You have no idea how hard it’s been for me, but I didn’t complain! I did what I had to do!”
Logan’s face contorted in confusion and anger. “What you have to do? What does that even mean?!”
Max threw his hands up in the air, the gesture sharp and full of exasperation. But as he did, he noticed Logan flinch, instinctively bracing himself as if expecting a blow. The sight hit Max like a punch to the gut. The room fell into a heavy silence, the anger between them dissipating as quickly as it had flared.
Max’s heart dropped, and his stomach twisted with guilt. He opened his mouth, struggling to find the right words, his voice shaky with regret. “Fuck. Logan, I didn’t—I would never—fuck.”
Logan, still tense, shook his head quickly, his own anger melting into something more fragile. “I know, Max. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Max cut him off, his voice thick with emotion. “No, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t believe I lost my temper. I just—I’m not Dad, Logan. You know that, right? I would never hurt you.”
Logan nodded, his eyes softening as he saw the raw sincerity in Max’s expression. “I know. We both said things we didn’t mean. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” Max whispered, the guilt still gnawing at him. “What I said was fucked up. You’re my brother. I love you.”
“And I love you too, Max,” Logan replied, his voice steadying. “We were just disagreeing. It happens. We can move on.”
Without another word, Max reached out and pulled Logan into a tight hug. Logan didn’t hesitate to return it, his arms wrapping around Max with equal intensity. They stood there, holding onto each other, the remnants of their anger fading away, replaced by a deep, comforting silence.
They had been through so much together and faced more than most brothers ever would. This was just another hurdle, and like all the others before it, they would get through it together. In the end, no matter how much they argued or disagreed, they knew they were each other’s anchor in a world that often felt too chaotic and overwhelming.
And that bond, that unshakeable connection, was something no argument could ever break.
+++
Max's return from the race weekend had been unexpectedly early. A last-minute schedule change had freed him from his obligations at the Red Bull factory, and he’d decided to come home and surprise Logan. The apartment was quiet when he walked in, a stark contrast to the usual buzz of activity.
As he made his way into the living room, he was caught off guard by the sight before him. Logan and Oscar were on the couch, their faces inches apart, lips locked in a tender kiss. Max froze in the doorway, his mind scrambling to process the scene.
Logan’s eyes snapped open when he heard Max’s footsteps. His face turned a deep crimson as he pulled away from Oscar, instantly standing up in a panic. “Max! I—”
Max took a deep breath, forcing a calm demeanour despite the storm of emotions churning inside him. He needed to address this carefully, ensuring Logan didn’t feel ashamed or uncomfortable. “Hey, Logan. I didn’t mean to barge in. I—I had a schedule change and came home early.”
Logan’s eyes darted between Max and Oscar, his anxiety palpable. “I’m sorry, Max. I didn’t think… I mean, I didn’t know you’d be home so soon.”
Oscar, sensing the tension, stood up and gave a reassuring nod to Logan before stepping toward Max. “I’m going to give you two some privacy. See you later, Logan.”
As Oscar left, Max and Logan were left alone in the quiet living room. The silence felt heavy, and Logan’s anxiety was nearly tangible. Max took a step closer, his heart aching for his younger brother. “Logan, can we talk?”
Logan nodded hesitantly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Yeah. I guess so.”
Max gestured to the couch, and they both sat down, though there was a noticeable gap between them. He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I want you to know that you don’t have to hide anything from me. I saw what was happening, and I’m not upset. I’m actually glad you’re finding someone who makes you happy.”
Logan’s eyes flicked up to Max’s, a mixture of relief and lingering worry in them. “You’re not mad?”
“No, not at all,” Max said gently. “Look, I know Dad made things complicated and I’m sorry if I ever gave you the impression that you needed to keep this part of yourself a secret. That’s not fair to you. You should be able to be open about who you are without fear.”
Logan’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though his anxiety was still evident. “I was just worried. I didn’t know how you’d react. And after everything with Dad…”
Max placed a comforting hand on Logan’s shoulder. “I understand. But I want you to know that you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you. You’re my brother, and I love you no matter what. Your happiness matters to me more than anything.”
Logan’s eyes filled with gratitude and a hint of curiosity. “What about you, Max? What’s your deal?”
Max chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I like both girls and boys. It’s just who I am. And, actually, I’ve got a bit of a crush on someone on the grid right now. It’s complicated, but I get it. We’re all just trying to figure things out.”
Logan’s expression softened, a small, relieved smile tugging at his lips. “Really? I didn’t know that. I guess we’re both kind of in the same boat then.”
“Yeah, we are,” Max agreed, his smile widening. “And that’s okay. We can support each other through all of it. If you ever need to talk about anything—whether it’s about Oscar or anything else—I’m here. No judgment.”
Logan nodded, his anxiety gradually giving way to a sense of comfort. “Thanks, Max. I really needed to hear that.”
Max pulled Logan into a hug, holding him tightly. “Of course. We’re in this together. Always.”
They stayed like that for a few moments, the warmth of their embrace providing much-needed reassurance. The argument they’d had seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by this renewed sense of understanding and support.
As they pulled apart, Logan managed a genuine smile. “So, what’s next? Any other surprises waiting for me?”
Max laughed, a light and easy sound. “Well, now that you mention it, I was thinking we could use this unexpected day off to do something fun. Maybe grab some lunch or catch a movie? Just us.”
Logan’s smile widened, and he nodded eagerly. “That sounds great. Let’s do it.”
Max and Logan stood up, their bond stronger than ever. The road ahead might still have its challenges, but they knew they could face them together. As they headed out of the apartment, they felt a renewed sense of hope and connection, ready to tackle whatever came next.
+++
The day had come. Max's championship race had arrived, and the excitement was palpable. The entire Formula 1 world was buzzing with anticipation, but for Max and Logan, this was more than just a race—it was a culmination of years of struggle, determination, and dreams.
Max had been dominant throughout the season. His driving was a symphony of skill and precision, and the championship seemed within his grasp. Logan had been his rock, cheering him on from the sidelines and offering unwavering support. The brothers had come a long way since their tumultuous past, and this moment was a testament to their journey.
As the race day dawned, the tension was high. The crowd was electric, and Max felt a mix of exhilaration and nerves. Logan was right there with him, as always. They had shared countless moments of triumph and adversity, and now they were on the brink of achieving a dream they had both worked so hard for.
In the garage before the race, Max was focused, his usual intensity and determination in full force. Logan, though, had a different kind of intensity. He was quietly supportive, offering Max a calming presence.
“You’ve got this, Max,” Logan said, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Just remember everything you’ve worked for and go out there and do your thing.”
Max turned to him, his eyes filled with gratitude. “Thanks, Logan. I couldn’t have done this without you. Your support means everything to me.”
Logan’s eyes shone with pride. “It’s been incredible watching you get here. No matter what happens today, I’m proud of you.”
The race itself was a blur of adrenaline and speed. Max drove with fierce determination, every corner and straightaway a test of his skill. Logan watched from the pits, his heart racing with every lap. The tension was almost unbearable as the final laps approached.
As Max crossed the finish line, securing the championship, the roar of the crowd was deafening. The realization that he had achieved his dream hit him like a wave. He had done it—he was the World Champion.
The emotions overwhelmed him as he climbed out of the car, his team surrounding him in celebration. But amidst the chaos, his eyes searched for one person—Logan.
Max spotted him in the crowd and made his way through the throng of people. Logan was waiting, his eyes filled with tears of joy and pride. When Max reached him, he pulled Logan into a tight embrace.
“I did it, Logan!” Max exclaimed, his voice cracking with emotion.
Logan hugged him back, his voice choked with tears. “I knew you could. I’m so proud of you. You deserve this more than anyone.”
They held each other for a moment, the world around them fading into the background. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated joy—a testament to their bond and the sacrifices they had made to get here.
The celebrations continued, but Max and Logan found a quiet spot away from the noise. They sat together, their arms around each other, savouring the victory.
“You know,” Max said, breaking the silence, “I’ve always dreamed of this moment, but it’s not just about the championship. It’s about everything we’ve been through and how far we’ve come.”
Logan nodded, his eyes still wet. “Yeah. It’s been a hell of a journey. And through all the ups and downs, you’ve always been there for me. I’m just glad I could be here for you today.”
Max smiled a genuine, heartfelt smile. “We did this together. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Logan grinned back, a mixture of pride and relief in his expression. “Well, you’re not done yet. There’s more to come. But for now, let’s just enjoy this moment.”
They sat there, side by side, soaking in the significance of the day. It was a moment of victory, but also of deep connection. Their journey had been marked by challenges and triumphs, and this was a celebration of their resilience and their unbreakable bond.
As the celebrations continued and the world watched, Max and Logan knew that this was just the beginning. They had faced the darkest times together, and now, they were standing on top of the world, united by their shared dreams and the unyielding support they had given each other.
And as Max looked out over the crowd, with Logan by his side, he knew that the real victory was not just in the championship but in the incredible relationship they had forged.